


The Spirit of Bast

by chiron_ne, InNeedOfANap



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bast T'Challa, Dominican Bucky Barnes, Genderqueer Character, Its not as serious as it seems trust me, Kinda, Latino Bucky Barnes, M/M, Multi, Native American Steve Rogers, Neo-Paganism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POC Bucky Barnes, POC Steve Rogers, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Queer characters written by actual queer writers, Sam Wilson is a therapist, Sam’s the pagan btw, That bit is up to interpretation, is self indulgent, its T’Challa, what it really is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-31 11:37:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13974318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiron_ne/pseuds/chiron_ne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/InNeedOfANap/pseuds/InNeedOfANap
Summary: Sam was Christian.Or at least, tried to be for a while. Up until 16, he sat in those perfect church pews and watched as his father preached at the altar, hands always drifting over to his mother’s. The rows provided a sense of comfort that rarely came from the streets of Harlem just outside.That feeling disappeared after 16.





	1. Chapter 1

Sam was Christian.

  
Or at least, tried to be for a while. Up until 16, he sat in those perfect church pews and watched as his father preached at the altar, hands always drifting over to his mother’s. The rows provided a sense of comfort that rarely came from the streets of Harlem just outside.

That feeling disappeared after 16.

The church wasn’t his home anymore, not after the words of praised preachers never seemed to click. Black and gay was unheard of.

  
The thought of it now made soft shudders run through Sam’s body. He eventually moved on, moved on to Washington D.C., moved on to a decently sized apartment with his friend and his friend’s boyfriend who popped up out of nowhere. He moved on from Harlem, to his own altar, to his quiet space in the corner of his room where he shakily lit the stick of incense.

  
Even in church, he had trouble praying. What was he supposed to do with his legs, his hands? Was he supposed to be formal, to be casual? His hands together felt too… He groaned softly, shifting on his knees. Kneeling with his hands on his lap was a bit easier. It seemed like the statuette was staring him down. Bast seemed… intimidating. Protective, but intimidating. He checked the clock, biting his lip gently. Steve would be back soon and Sam really didn’t want to explain anything other than the incense.   
He gave one last look at the statuette before closing his eyes.

  
“So… Bast. I never really contacted you, or tried to pray until now. I just…” he sighed, trudging on, “I’d just like to thank you for all you’ve done for me already, protecting this home. I don’t really know if you like my offering, just be open to telling me if you don’t. I’m sorry Steve is an ignorant bitch, he really tries his best. So does Bucky, but he could give less of a crap. Thank you, hopefully we can talk again.”

  
Sam checked the time and rushed to put everything back in the shoebox and in the closet, setting the incense by the windowsill. Despite the rush, he actually felt at peace. A space-y peace, almost like he was floating. He felt calm, watching the smoke from the incense drift through the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam knew what he was doing. He didn’t expect an immediate response within the first week, or month, but it had been three months. _Three_ _goddamn months_ and nothing. He wrote things that reminded him of her on sticky notes. He had prayed daily, and even placed offerings at least twice a week, maybe even more if he remembered or had the time. Still, nothing.

  
Of course, he knew that godphone stuff wasn’t easy or common, but it still would’ve been nice to see a sign.

  
At least now he managed to tell Bucky why he sectioned off a piece of his food and ate it last or got cologne he never wore. He was calm through the entire explanation, and his only response was, “I thought your thing was birds.”

  
Now they were on the couch debating with each other if they should talk to Steve about it over dinner. Bucky was adamant on the idea that Steve wouldn’t mind, but Sam wasn’t so sure. Just because Bucky had been supportive didn’t mean that everyone else would, and he already had to deal with Christian™ guys and girls deciding they needed to constantly remind him that he was going to hell.

  
The door to the apartment swung open and they immediately jumped into a conversation about how if you poured milk before the cereal you were quite literally a demon.

  
“How many times are you guys going to go over this shitty debate?” Steve grumbled, setting the takeout down next to Sam. The smell of rice and legume with crab floated through the apartment, reminding Sam of the slightly overpriced Haitian cuisine he had whenever he visited Boston.

  
“For as long as we live,” Sam announced as he grabbed his plate. Dinner continued in comfort and relative silence, sometimes filled with small talk about their days. Bucky gave a glance towards Sam that said it all.

  
“So-”

  
Steve held a hand up to stop him, then continued to eat. “At least let me finish eating before you say something important,” he mumbled with his mouth full. Finally, Steve decided he was done with his food and nodded for Sam to continue.

  
“I’m pagan,” he started, and when Steve started to talk he quickly interrupted him. “No, I’m not a satan worshipper and I don’t sacrifice kids so don’t even start, before I kick your ass to next Sunday.”

  
“You’re not gonna like run around naked praising your gods right?” he asked, which Sam answered with a shake of his head. Sam knew he probably should’ve been offended by that but once he explained everything and Steve said he was fine with it, he couldn’t help but be okay with Steve’s previous misconceptions.

  
After dinner, they watched a movie then retreated to their respective rooms. Sam rushed over to his altar and lit a candle, a smile still on his face.

  
“Bast, I can’t thank you enough, I really can’t. Just… damn, things could’ve gone so wrong but you kept me safe and I’m just glad Steve didn’t try to kick me out over this. I really want to make it up to you…” He went quiet after that, trying to think of how to continue.

  
“Please, show me a sign? Anything, it’s just that I don’t really know if you’re actually here and I know I can have my doubts but… I can’t help but wonder if what I’m doing is a waste. I want it not to be, y’know? You mean a lot to me,” he mumbled as he blew out the candle.

  
“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to come hit us up on tumblr @honeesweetness and @iwilldevourthebodies


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the longest chapter for a work I’ve ever written ever and I’m so proud of it omg??? Just wowie wow

When he asked for a sign, he hadn’t expected this.

He didn’t even remember dreams half of the time but this one…

  
The things he could remember the most were his laugh and smile. His laugh, it was the warmest laugh he’d ever heard. He couldn’t remember how or when he heard it in his dream but he remembered how safe it made him feel, as if he was coming home.

  
And his smile? It was amazing, and bright. The confidence radiating off whoever this guy was made him flustered so easily.

  
He tried to remember if he had seen him before. He’d read that any time you saw a face in your dreams it was someone you had previously met, because the human brain couldn’t make up new faces, but Sam was sure that he’d remember if he’d seen someone that beautiful before.

  
Now Sam was trying his hardest to explain to Steve and Bucky how important this was to him and that he’d pay Steve just to draw this person just once.

  
“Wow, Sam, are you actually thirsting this hard over a theoretically nonexistent man?” Bucky teased, laughing as he caught the pillow thrown at his head.

  
“Listen, bitch, he’s hot as hell and I need him in my life,” Sam growled, narrowing his eyes at the man beside him.

  
“What are you gonna do with the drawing, post it over the city with the caption, ‘lost this man. IDK who he is but I saw him in a dream and he’s hot, if you know him call me winky face’?”

  
“I’m literally gonna kill you.”

  
“Guys!” Steve yelled, showing them the drawing. “This close enough?”

  
“Kinda…” Sam frowned a bit as he stared at the sketch in front of him. Something was off, but he couldn’t tell what the _fuck_ it was. “It’s close enough. Imma start on errands, make sure you’re ready so we can go out.”

  
“Yes, Dad!” The both of them chimed, laughing to themselves when Sam flipped them off and left.

  
On his way down the stairs he managed to make small talk with the residents he barely saw. A father and his two kids who just happened to love Sam and a smaller old couple who were talking on the porch about how music was better back then. Sam agreed, but needed to get going, so he saved that conversation for another time.

  
He knew he was looking for the literal man of his dreams, glancing around the bus for any sight of him. He shook his head and scolded himself for it. Like Steve said, it was probably someone from before he saw on TV or a magazine, not some sign from Bast or any other deity. Still, he held onto some hope and looked up from his phone whenever someone got on the bus.

  
He slumped a bit as his stop came up, and he almost walked all the way off the bus when someone walked by him. He was on the phone with someone and sat down three _whole ass_ seats away from where Sam had sat down before.

  
‘Bitch, don’t do it, you’re gonna look weird and embarrass yourself,’ Sam thought as he sat down anyways. He didn’t know how to act or what to do, or how to sneak in subtle glances or a picture of what could be the reincarnation of Bast three fucking seats away from him. Lost in his daze, he didn’t notice him walk off the bus until after the fact. Great.

  
After his trek to the market which was greatly lengthened due to the presence a potential god, he made his way back to their apartment. Bucky and Steve were ready (for once) so they quickly made their way to Panera Bread.

  
“Panera Bread is delicious and I’m too lazy to cook, okay,” Steve explained, parking by the front. At this point Steve memorised their orders, so Bucky and Sam went to their usual table right by the door and windows. Right by an exit and they could see outside where their car was parked, just how they liked it.

  
“Jesus Christ, Buck, I swear I saw him. Not like some fever dream but I actually saw him.”

  
“First of all, don’t use that, you’re not Christian. Second of all, are you sure? I thought I saw Angelina Jolie once but it just turned out to be someone who looked a lot like her.”

  
“Do you even know who that is? You’re at least ninety,” he teased, then quickly thanked Steve when he came back with the food and drinks. They joked and laughed as they ate, easy conversation between them as always. It was pretty clear to the other two men that Sam was distracted, but they knew not to question him. This man, whoever it was, was clearly very important to him, and miracles happen more often than people may think, so they reasoned that the man from Sam’s dream very well could be real.

  
Of course, having Sam looking up at the door every time a new person came in was getting annoying, but he was doing his best to take part in their conversation, which, as the men were getting more and more heated, drew in his attention further, to the point that he stopped looking at the door altogether.

  
“No spice, no rice, no chocolate is some of the most racist shit you can say while trying not to be racist, c’mon. Seriously, basing someone’s entire personality on race is bullshit, not preference.”

  
“It’s worse when they ask for your big black dick, you don’t understand,” Sam whined, rubbing his temples. “Or when they use AAVE to try and talk to you, all of a sudden just because they’re gay, they’re exempt from racism.”

  
Suddenly, Sam heard a voice, laced with an accent that sounded so familiar, yet he was sure he’d never heard someone speak like that before. He stopped speaking for a moment and glanced around before finally finding the person who was standing up at the counter, ordering something that he couldn’t quite hear.

  
“Guys. Guys, yo, guys, guys, guys-”

  
“What the fuck is it now…” Bucky groaned, looking over where Sam was facing and gasping. Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face when Steve looked over too and went silent.

  
He was even better in person.

  
“Quit your staring and ask him for his fucking number, holy shit-”

  
“I can’t do that!” Sam screeched, ducking down when the man who was possibly Bast looked over. “What if he thinks I’m weird? ‘Oh, I saw you in my dreams from some cat goddess and kind of maybe stalked you on the bus, can I have your number?’ That’s smooth as hell.”

  
“You stalked him?”

  
“No, I just stayed on the bus after he came on for 20 minutes even though it was my stop,, and stared at him,,,”

  
“Holy shit, Sam.”

  
“Guys, shut up he’s walking over,” Steve admonished, changing the conversation as they tried their best not to watch him walk by. What made things worse is that maybe Bast sat facing Sam, minding his own business.

  
They ate in silence until Bucky decided, for some reason, to say, “Imagine getting literally fucked by a god.”

  
“You say this like I haven’t been daydreaming about it,” Sam mumbled, sipping from his cup. He kept eating, groaning and about to snap when Bucky kept nudging him until he heard a tray being set down next to Steve.

  
“You have been stealing glances ever since I walked in so there must be something about me you find interesting,” probably Bast said with a chuckle, and Sam felt his soul ascending as he stared at this god in front of him. “I’m T’Challa.”

  
“This thirsty hoe is Sam Wilson, and he’s madly in love with you,” Bucky teased, laughing when Sam punched him in the arm. “I’m just trying to help you!”

  
“Ignore Buchanan, he’s just annoyed that Sam is more successful than he is,” Steve hummed, stabbing his fork through the salad. “Sam’s just a bit flustered, y’know? He doesn’t really know how to talk to pretty people.”

  
“What does that say about you?” Sam countered, his grin widening when T’Challa laughed. “So, uh, I couldn’t help but stare because wow you’re beautiful and you seem really nice so maybe I could get your number?”

  
T’Challa smiled a bit. “Well, first off, I’m pagan as hell so if that is an immediate turn off, sorry even though I don’t care. I also go by she or they so…”

  
“Fine by me,” Sam said quickly, not wanting her to be uncomfortable.

  
“That’s good,” T’Challa said back with a bright smile. They all fell into a comfortable conversation, with many teasing comments about the puppy love eyes being exchanged across the table. It seemed to get worse once Sam mentioned that he was also a Pagan, and he and T’Challa started talking about Bast. To Steve and Bucky’s dismay he didn’t mention the fact that Bast had quite literally given him a vision of T’Challa, but Sam seemed to be much calmer when they were simply talking amongst each other.

  
Eventually T’Challa explained that she had to head back home, and after a quick exchange of numbers between her and Sam, the four of them bid their goodbyes.

  
Sam prayed with a grin that night, phone chiming as he said goodnight to Bast.

  
**T’Challa <3**   
**Goodnight, falcon. <333**   
_**10:24** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The falcon nickname is bc Sam decided to tell T’Challa about the big ass Falcon tattoo on his back bc why not


	4. Chapter 4

Two more days. Two more days until his date with T’Challa, who he still thought was at least _a piece_ of Bast on this very Earth. It had been two weeks and three days since they had actually met (it doesn’t help that Sam has been keeping count) and he was eager to see her again.

 

“God, you’re pining so badly,” Bucky whispered as he watched Sam scroll through (stalk) T’Challa’s instagram feed.

 

“Not technically pining if we have a date,” he snapped back.

 

“Still, you’re stalking her instagram and whimpering every time you see her in makeup or a crop top.” Sam just rolled his eyes and pulled his knees to his chest, gasping when he accidentally liked a picture from eight _fucking_ months ago.

 

“Shit!” He unliked it quickly, hiding his face at the wave of anxiety flowing through him. “I’m a mess, someone save me.”

 

“I doubt she’ll notice?” Bucky assured him nervously, getting up after the man next to him shot him a glare. Sam sighed and just flopped against the couch, checking the time on his phone. 7:48 PM. Saturday could not get here any sooner. He closed his eyes and listened to the music Bucky played in the background, but the vibration from his phone jolted him awake.

 

**T’Challa <3**

**-Just wanted to check the time and place with you?**

 

**_Birdie <33_ **

**_-its @3:30 PM at that restaurant ill send the address to once i gt my shit together_ **

**_-*get fuck_ **

**_-sorry if im a bit late tho, gonna check out this witchy shop thingy that everyone keeps recc_ **

 

**T’Challa <3**

**-That’s fine with me, see you soon! <333**

 

Sam just sighed happily, checking the time again. Why couldn’t it be Saturday? Two more days of busy schedules that were probably going to drain him of all his energy. Just the thought of it made him yawn and curl up on his claimed corner on the couch, watching as Bucky danced to some Broadway song, empty left sleeve flopping around as he moved.

 

“Damn, this is nice, I really like what they’ve done with the lights. The newest club in Washington Heights,” Sam sung under his breath, chuckling when Bucky ran over, singing along to every single part. He definitely was an Usnavi.

——————

One more day until his date, and Sam was already pacing around his room, trying to stop himself from being so hyper aware of his body. He had to skip incense offerings because of his inability to control his breathing.

 

It was five in the morning, way too early to even think about getting ready for his next client. He slipped on his sandals and shuffled down the dark hallway, his hands guiding him to a lamp. Why they still even kept it, he’d never know; it wasn’t nearly as bright as it should have been, and its light just flickered weakly.

 

Sam looked around the crowded room with a grimace before moving on to their kitchen. Bucky had forgotten to put back the cereal again but honestly, he couldn’t give enough of a shit to put it back. He set the kettle he filled with water on the stovetop, turning it on and watching as the coils turned red.

 

His eyes drifted to their box of cassette tapes, opening the old and dented cardboard flaps to grab one. “Listen if You’re About to Go Insane,” Sam read softly, chuckling and setting it into the player. “These goddamn nerds.”

 

Sam listened as Africa by Toto played gently through the kitchen, waiting for the tea to brew.

\----------

Sam practically leaped through his office door when the clock turned to 2:00 PM. An hour, maybe an hour and a half if he wanted to cut it close to get to the store then to the restaurant. When he finally got to the metaphysical store, he was quite impressed. It was quaint, simple, and sleek. He walked in and looked around, almost in awe at the amount of crystals, stacks of incense, tools, and tarot cards that lined the wall.

 

He almost bought _way_ too much and suddenly worried that it’d be awkward carrying that many bags to a date. He set down a few things he decided he could live without for the time being and walked up to the cashier, who made him freeze in his tracks.

 

“Sam! When you said you were going to a store, I didn’t expect this!” T’Challa exclaimed, and Sam almost melted at the sound of her voice.

 

“I didn’t mean to- y’know, fuck, sorry,” Sam started, fidgeting with his shirt hem when T’Challa stopped him.

 

“Don’t worry! You might have to wait a bit but now we can walk together, my shift is ending,” she said with a smile, ringing up his items and handing him the bag. Sam nodded quickly, smiling back as he watched T’Challa leave into the back room.

 

They made small talk as T’Challa drove them to the restaurant, mostly talking about their days and the shows they were watching. Sam grinned the entire time, even as she went off on a tangent about how common queer-baiting was, especially in the shows that she tended to be interested in.

 

They stepped out together when they arrived, T'Challa leading Sam into the restaurant.

 

\--------

 

‘Why is she so cute? And pretty, and oh gods, I’ve been staring at her,’ Sam thought as he looked at the very interesting table in front of him, eyes following the pattern of the wood grain. They had been talking about anything and everything as they ate, and T’challa somehow seemed to always catch him staring at her.

 

\--------

 

Sam had been staring at T’Challa for a while now, and she wasn’t sure how to react. At first she just thought it was Sam spacing out or getting distracted, but her nerves were getting the best of her. In a lull between topics, she blurted out, “I-Is there a reason why you’re staring at me?”

 

“For lack of better words, it's because my brain is fried right now, you’re just really, really, _really_ cute,” Sam said in a half-sigh. The look on T’Challa’s face must’ve been hilarious because Sam was laughing a bit in front of her. “You look surprised.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Well, since I feel like now I should actually attempt to contribute to the conversation, you wanna hear an interesting story about me being a dumbass?”

 

\---

  


**T’Challa <33**

**-Hey, I really enjoyed our date tonight.**

**-I’m still laughing at your story, by the way. Holy shit, you guys are dorks.**

**-It’s endearing and cute though. Especially you, Sam.**

 

**_Birdie <33_ **

**_-shush_ **

**_-the one time we thought stark would help us_ **

**_-then again, he’s like epitome White Entitled soooo_ **

 

**T’Challa <33**

**-You should learn French though. Seriously, it’s a very nice language.**

 

**_Birdie <33_ **

**_-yall say 80 like 4 20s french deserves no respect_ **

 

**T’Challa <33**

**-Uh, that’s the best part of French. Potato is literally apple of the earth.**

 

**_Birdie <33_ **

**_-how is that relatable on so many levels_ **

 

**T’Challa <33 **

**-You’re silly. <3333333**

 

**_Birdie <33_ **

**_- <333333333333333333_ **

**_-okay but why did you use silly like that_ **

 

 **T’Challa <33** 

**-Shut it. <3**

  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again this is self indulgent as all hell and Sam's story is up to interpretation/speculation cause we didn't feel like writing it

**Author's Note:**

> SO this was hella self indulgent and honestly just for myself. I want more pagan characters only for the fact that I need more discussion about Friday the Fuckteenth. 
> 
> Tumblrs: Honeesweetness (Celes-tea-l, the writer)  
> iwilldevourthebodies (InNeedOfANap, beta who also writes a paragraph every now and then)


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